Raised Ink
by florals-and-a-promise
Summary: When House was entering Mayfield, Chase and Cameron were getting married. Divorce is already in their future. Fed up with his constant drinking, Cameron gets a tattoo to let Chase know who her heart really belongs to. Rated T for safety, though it may be M eventually. Hameron themes, Badass!Cameron, and not at all Chase-friendly. xD
1. Destruction

It was childish. It was worse than that, she just wasn't sure what word would suffice in describing how immature it really was. When her fingers ghosted over the raised ink, she shuddered in a tinge of fear. A fear of two things, if she was being honest with herself. Of Chase seeing it, and of House finding out about it.

When you go to a tattoo parlor, they make you sign a consent confirming that you're not under the influence of drugs or alcohol, and that you are in a proper state of mind to be making the decision to be getting a tattoo. The muscles in her hand constricted in fear as she signed the paper, hoping that the artist behind the desk wouldn't notice the dark circles under her eyes, nor the smell of wine on her breath. She snorted lightly to herself as she handed the papers over, and the man asked what was amusing to her.

"Nothing." She had replied softly, knowing that he didn't want to hear her slightly disturbing thought; that she had put as much thought into signing the tattoo release as she had in signing her marriage license to Robert, which wasn't a whole lot.

She had loved him, honestly she had. It just wasn't in any way that mattered enough to make the marriage work. It had been six months since they stood in front of their friends and families, proclaiming their love for one another, and they were already in the middle of a divorce. It had been mutual and mostly friendly, until recently, that is. They still lived together, as they weren't yet sure who was going to be taking the apartment. Chase wasn't handling the divorce as well as Allison, and had taken to heavy drinking every night after work. Allison worked long hours in the ER and always arrived home well after he had drunk himself into a frenzy of name calling and shouting. After hearing one too many times that the marriage might be going better if she went to the gym every now and then, she snapped.

The stinging of the tattoo gun had hurt in the beginning, but the pain subdued along with her original jitters. The tattoo was so miniscule that it took nearly no time at all, but near the end of the design, she noticed that she was restraining herself from leaning into the touch of the needle. It had started to feel surprisingly good, almost seductively dark.

Her brain was sharply reminding her over and over that her ears were hurting, that they wanted to get out of their environment, but Allison ignored the memo, instead nodding her head to the rock music that was blaring in the shop.

"I wonder if my job has a policy against visible tattoos." She wondered out loud, though she couldn't bring herself to sound too concerned about it. The artist that was currently working on her design raised a single eyebrow and shook his head in amusement with a small chuckle.

"Where ya work?" He asked curiously, taking notice of the pink scrubs that she hadn't bothered to change out of.

"Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital." She droned, leaving out any emotion in the sentence. He nodded his understanding, recognizing from her tone that she didn't care to go into anymore details.

"All done, what do you think? I mean, it'll look a lot better when it's not raised up and red, but it gives you a good idea…"

She stared down at it, a small smile curving at her lips. She didn't tell the artist, but she secretly liked the raised ink and the reddish tint around it. It seemed harsher than a fully healed tattoo, and that worked well with the gesture she was making.

Walking home, fear still hadn't set in, though she vaguely realized that she _should _be at least nervous. She felt dethatched from the situation, as if it wasn't even real, or that it hadn't meant anything. That was pure bull, and somewhere deep down, she knew it. It didn't seem worth worrying about it, now that the act was over with.

When she got home, he was sitting in the same usual spot, drinking the same usual scotch, wearing the same usual expression. No wait…He normally looked uninterested, not angry and accusing…

"Where have you been, Allison?" He asked through gritted teeth. She blankly blinked back at him, wearing nothing but indifference in her expression.

"A tattoo parlor." She answered simply, walking into the kitchen and shrugging off the leather jacket that clashed horribly with her soft pink scrubs. He scoffed twice as if he wasn't sure whether or not he believed her. He stood from the couch and followed her into the kitchen, watching as she poured herself a glass of wine.

"Let me see it." Chase said with a grimace, attempting to sound calm but failing. Allison on the other hand, was feeling perfectly fine, and took a steady sip of her wine before answering him.

"I didn't say I got a tattoo, Robert, I said that I had been at a tattoo parlor." She explained calmly, knowing that she was beating around the bush. He paused for a few seconds, unable to process what she was saying through his drunken haze.

"Why were you at a tattoo parlor, then?" He snapped once he realized what she had said. Any patience that he had was wearing thin.

"Getting a tattoo."

She had to take another long gulp of her drink to hide the smile on her face at his glare. Then she noticed how his eyes fixated on her wine glass, questioningly peering at where her wedding ring used to sit.

They hadn't gone public with their separation, so they still wore their jewelry to work. At least they _had, _but Allison had taken off her ring and pocketed it once arriving at the parlor.

"_What is that?" _He shouted, though he already knew.

"It's a tattoo, Robert. Of a walking cane." She replied slowly, letting the words sink in as she set her wine glass on the counter so that she could peer at the cane with flames that now rested on her ring finger. He threw his glass of scotch against the wall, missing her head by about a foot. She knew he wasn't trying to aim for her, only scare her.

"Get. Out."

She picked up her glass of wine and downed its remains before dropping the glass at her feet. She flipped a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes, then stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door on the way out. She smiled at the satisfying sound of screaming on the other side of the wall.

**A/N: I'm totally prepared to write a second chapter where House returns from Mayfield ('cause that's the time period for this) and sees the tattoo if you guys want it. :3 Let me know? And let me know if you want it to get smutty? I am your writing slave, I will do whatever you guys want. ;D**


	2. Redemption

Hospitals didn't thrive on healing patients. Not really, anyway. Cuddy would say otherwise, of course. She was very proud knowing that the statistics of her hospital and the credability of her doctors kept the place runnning. Or so she _thought_. In reality, hospitals run on gossip. Word passes like wild fire, and Princeton Plainsboro was no stranger to juicy gossip. They loved it. It was practically comical, seeing nurses huddled over in a corner, surgeons talking over immobile patients. The newest piece of hot dish? Gregory House was returning to his position at the hospital, and as far as everyone else was concerned, he hadn't seen the 'art work' that had set the gossip mill ablaze only weeks ago. And they were right.

"Glad to be back, House?" Wilson asked with a smug smile, looking similar to a cheshire cat. House squinted his eyes in a questioning manner, knowing full well that his best friend was about ready to burst with something to say. Wilson had visited House plenty of times in Mayfield, but he had managed to keep his mouth shut, despite the major urge to do the exact opposite. It wasn't just Wilson waiting for the newest controversy to blow up, it was the entire hospital, and they had felt like they had waited long enough.

"Out with it then, I'm not gonna stand here all day while you smile like an idiot." House informed him matter of factly, leaning on his cane and popping a few milk duds in his mouth from the box that he had stolen from the oncologist.

"What makes you think I have something to say?" Wilson asked, feigning confusion and innocence, though the too-wide smile stayed put firmly on his face.

"You're boring me, I'm leaving."

He only had to take two steps before Wilson gave in.

"Okay, okay, okay! All I have to say is this: Go visit your favorite blonde."

House knew who he was talking about right away, but as he walked towards the elevator, he called out behind his shoulder, "You know Candace Marie isn't at the strip joint on Tuesdays! God, Wilson, I don't even know why we're friends!"

He had managed to make it a little over one hour before the curiousity was just too much for him to take. In the middle of a differential diagnoses with the team, he left the office without saying a word, his brain buzzing with the need to know what the big deal was.

House had decided to keep his distance, staying far enough away that he could study her for a few moments before she would notice him lurking, but not so far away that it could be considered hiding. When he first got a glimpse of her, he couldn't help but smirk with a slight fondness.

The ER had three patients, each being tended at with a slow pace from several nurses. Cameron, the head of the department, was watching in disinterest, rocking back on the balls of her feet lightly, looking bored out of her mind. With the way her fingers twitched at her side, House could tell that she wanted to jump in and do something, but they were over staffed as it was. It was while peering at her twitching hands that he saw it. It was only a glimpse, but it was more than enough time for him to see the vague shape, and the bright flames on top of it.

He looked down at the floor, trying hard to hide a grin, though no one was looking at him. It wasn't so much that he was happy, as that was far too strong a word for House. He was merely proud of his former duckling for making such an irrational decision. He noticed that the ring that should have been on her finger was gone, and he didn't miss the symbolism of what she had been trying to say. After several more moments to collect his thoughts, he made his way up to her, his eyes shining with what could be described as nothing else but pure amusement.

"Did you miss me?"

**A/N: Just a short one. My computer had completely shut down and it just got up and running, so I thought just a bit more to wet your appetites!**


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